Settling In
by Meia the Maia
Summary: As Sam adjusts to life in the West, he and Frodo start to settle into a new relationship. Immediately follows "New Beginnings."
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This part rated PG. Chapter summary: Sam starts to settle in to life on Tol Eressea and responds to Frodo's overtures from the previous night.

* * *

Frodo was in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea and scribbling in what looked like a ledger book when Sam found him the next morning. "Good morning, Sam," Frodo greeted him, eyeing him speculatively over the rim of his teacup. "How's your head?"

"Aching some," Sam admitted, pouring himself a cup of the tea and sitting down across the table from Frodo. "But it'll mend in a bit."

"Would you mind if I asked you a question?"

"Not at all."

"What year is it? I tried to keep track, but I'm fairly certain I'm off by a fair amount."

"It's 1482. I sailed on your birthday."

"Gandalf told me the journey takes three weeks, so yesterday was October 13th. Interesting," Frodo mumbled as he jotted things in the book. "I was definitely wrong! Somewhere along the line I lost fourteen years and a few months," he said wryly, grinning at his mistake. "I don't feel 114. And Bilbo sure doesn't look 192! Given enough time here, our lifespans could rival an elf's, I suppose."

"Do you think Mr. Bilbo will pass on soon?" Sam asked curiously.

"No, not yet," Frodo said meditatively. "He still feels like he has things to do before he goes."

"Where is he now?"

Frodo shrugged dismissively. "Probably still at the feast. That type of party can go on for days, and Bilbo loves being in the thick of it."

"But you don't like to stay as long."

"I don't enjoy the Elvish poetry the way Bilbo does, though I can appreciate it. In smaller doses. Preferably with good amounts of wine. Speaking of which, I'm sorry I didn't think to warn you last night that the wine here is rather strong."

"It's all right, Mr. Frodo. I won't suffer any lasting damage."

"Good, but that's another thing. If you don't mind, I'd rather you call me Frodo. That is, unless you want me to go calling you 'Mr. Mayor,'" Frodo teased.

"But I never was 'Mr. Mayor' when you were around," Sam protested without addressing the other part of Frodo's statement.

"You were mayor longer than you were my gardener, so the comparison is fair," Frodo pointed out. "I realize it's habit, but it feels out of place here."

"I'm sorry, M . . . ah . . . Frodo," Sam said.

"No harm done. Would you like some breakfast? I'm getting hungry."

"Breakfast sounds good. What can I do?"

"Get plates down and find the bread," Frodo directed. "That should give you some opportunity to learn where things are here." He grinned, and started frying eggs and bacon.

Sam peeked inside several cabinets. "Seems to me most everything is where you'd keep it at Bag End."

"You're probably right," Frodo admitted. "Bilbo and I both were set in our ways when we came. But if you can't find something, just ask."

Breakfast was ready fairly quickly; as they ate, Frodo asked Sam about Merry and Pippin. Sam told him about Pippin marrying Diamond and naming his son Faramir, though Faramir was the only child Diamond had been able to successfully birth, while Merry married Estella and had four children, two lads and two lasses. Frodo then asked about Aragorn, so Sam described the King's visit to the North and his own return to Minas Tirith with Rosie and Elanor several years later. Frodo was fascinated with the tale of the visit to the South and asked many questions about Aragorn and Arwen, their children, and the city itself, especially how it looked compared to when they had been there.

The conversation lasted well into the morning without either hobbit noticing the passage of so much time. When Frodo finally heard enough (of that story, at least!), he rose and stretched and was startled at the angle of the sun outside. "My, we've spent half the morning at the table! What would you like to do today?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't even know where to begin."

"I didn't show you all of the hole yesterday, did I?"

Sam shook his head.

"Let's start there, then," Frodo said. "Follow me." He led Sam to the front door, and proceeded toward the back of the smial. "On the left is the sitting room, and on the right is the library."

Sam was suitably impressed at the number of books in the small library, considering they must have had to collect virtually all of them after arriving here at Tol Eressea.

"Next is the kitchen on the left and Bilbo's room on the right. His room is the only place that I let him keep his messes when I'm around, or the entire hole would look like Bag End used to, with papers and books piled everywhere. So his room is the biggest, and has its own door to the bathing room. Obviously, this room on the right is the bathing room. My room is across from it, next to yours. Next to the bathing room is just a storage room. You'd be surprised how many mathoms a hobbit can collect without being amongst other hobbits!"

"Your room is so small," Sam said in wonderment.

"It's the same size as yours," Frodo said practically. "Truth be told, I don't spend nearly as much time here as Bilbo does. We have another hole outside the city, at the edge of a wooded area and still fairly close to the sea. I live there much of the time. I'll take you there in a while, perhaps a few weeks, when you're less overwhelmed."

"Another hole? Why?"

Frodo shrugged. "I decided I didn't always want to be in the city. You probably can't tell, but Elrond's house is practically in the middle of the city, and there are times when I'd prefer not to trip over elves at every turn."

Sam chuckled. "Going to the land of the elves may not have been the best choice, then."

Frodo laughed. "There have been enough positives to outweigh the rare days that I tire of elves entirely."

"Your wounds no longer bother you? If you were able to lose track of the months and years . . ."

"I no longer suffer from the anniversary illnesses, no," Frodo confirmed.

"I'm so glad," Sam said with a wide grin. "I did worry about that, after you left."

"And I wondered about you," Frodo said fondly. "I'm happy that life in the Shire was good to you."

"There was one thing missing from the Shire," Sam said, looking at him intently. "I seem to remember something from last night that I wanted to talk about."

Frodo blushed and avoided Sam's gaze. "It was imprudent of me."

"But it was the truth, and you should never regret telling the truth."

"I never said I regretted it," Frodo protested, meeting Sam's eyes.

"And I won't regret this," Sam said, leaning forward and kissing Frodo in return, lingering long enough that his intent would be clear but not long enough to seem overbearing.

Frodo looked dazed and surprised when Sam met his eyes again. "I . . . um . . . why did you do that?" he asked haltingly.

"Because I wanted to," Sam said simply. "That's what I have to say about last night."

"Oh. Well . . . I . . . uh . . ." Frodo stuttered.

Sam couldn't help but smile a bit at Frodo's discomfiture. "What did you think I'd say? That I was horrified at you? How could I, when I often thought of you that way?"

"I don't know," Frodo said, hugging his arms to himself. "But you married Rosie . . . I didn't think you were . . ."

"Didn't think I was what?"

"I don't know," Frodo said helplessly. "That you couldn't feel the same way about me as I felt about you? I know you loved Rosie very much."

"Yes, Rosie is a dear lass. Was," he corrected himself self-consciously. "But that doesn't mean I can't care for you, too."

"I suppose," Frodo said reluctantly. "I hoped all that time that you might care for me like that, but I wasn't sure it was possible, since you cared for Rosie so much."

"I do care for you, Frodo," Sam said earnestly. "Finding out the way you feel for me was a mite of a shock, but I couldn't be happier about it. But you seem upset. Why?" He reached out to Frodo and held his shoulders gently.

"I'm not upset, I'm . . . well, I guess I'm surprised like you were last night," Frodo answered slowly, biting his lower lip and looking up at Sam shyly. "Are you sure . . . ? You're not just humoring me?"

"Have you ever known me to say something just to humor you?" Sam asked sternly and tightened his hands on Frodo's shoulders. Frodo meekly shook his head no. "Then why don't you believe me about this?"

"I need time to get used to the idea," he said defensively. "I've been hoping for so long . . . I didn't expect you to just . . . agree, just like that. It's wonderful . . . almost too wonderful to believe. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I think I do," Sam said thoughtfully, remembering waking up in Ithilien after thinking he and Frodo would die on the Mountain.

"Good." Frodo sounded relieved. "Would you mind if we . . . proceeded . . . with this slowly? I don't want anything to go wrong and then have us stuck here with only ourselves as company for the rest of our lives. So I guess it would be something like courting."

Sam chuckled. "Courting? So which of us is the lass?"

"Neither? Both? I don't know, that just seemed the best comparison. But you know what I mean . . . you don't just tell a lass you like her and then marry her right after."

"Well . . ." Sam tried not to smirk.

"Samwise!" Frodo said with mock horror. "Are you trying to tell me you didn't court Rosie at all?"

"No," Sam said hurriedly. "But when you know a person as well as Rosie and me knew each other beforehand, there isn't as much to say."

"That may be, but I'd still feel more comfortable if we didn't . . . rush into things and just take our time."

"I have the feeling we have nothing but time here, so I am willing to take it at whatever pace you'd like. But I doubt there is anything to go wrong since we have both spent so long wanting one another," Sam said practically.

Frodo blushed a little. "Perhaps, but this old hobbit needs time to wrap his mind around things."

"Bilbo is an old hobbit, not you," Sam teased. "Maybe when you're pushing 200 I'll let you call yourself old."

"Who's being called old?" a voice from the front doorway asked.

"No one, Bilbo," Frodo said hurriedly, turning around as Sam let go of his shoulders. "I was showing Sam around the hole," he explained when Bilbo had appeared and closed the door. "Did you have a good time at the feast?"

"Of course I did! I would've been back sooner if I didn't," Bilbo said briskly, going into the kitchen for tea and a snack.

Frodo followed Bilbo and Sam followed Frodo. "Are you going to sleep a while?" Frodo asked.

"Yes, I think I'll have a bit of a nap," Bilbo said around a bite of cranberry muffin. Then he said to Sam, "Sometimes I forget that elves do not require as much sleep as hobbits and exhaust myself trying to keep up. Frodo, lad, how long did I go without sleep that one time?"

"Almost five days, and you would've stayed up longer if you hadn't collapsed in a heap in Elrond's hall," Frodo said with some reproach.

"That was a splendid time, but I learned my lesson. I was laid up for the better part of two weeks."

"He's learned his lesson, all right. Now he'll only stay out for up to three days," Frodo said as an aside to Sam, who bit back a chuckle.

Bilbo finished his muffin and tea and placed the mug in the sink to clean up later. "I'm off to bed. If you could keep the noise down, I'd be grateful. Good day!"

With that, Bilbo disappeared from sight toward his bedroom. Sam's eyes followed him as far as they could. "What does he think we'll be doing that could be noisy enough to wake him?" he asked, bewildered.

Frodo shook his head. "I have no idea." Then a thought occurred to him. "Well, I have one idea, but that would only work if one of our bedrooms shared a wall with his. And it would assume that he thinks we are . . . amorously inclined. Which we aren't. At least right now."

Sam laughed. "I could be amorously inclined if you wanted to be," he said, waggling his eyebrows and winking. "But that would rather ruin the 'taking it slow' idea."

"It would, at that," Frodo agreed. "Which isn't to say I wouldn't be willing, of course. Just that I don't want to right now. I'm not ready for you to see me naked yet, for one thing."

"Because you have so much to be ashamed of," Sam teased, wrapping his arms around Frodo's waist from behind and pulling him close.

"It's not that," Frodo protested, yielding unresisting to Sam's arms. "Don't laugh, but I'm something of a prude when it comes to being undressed in front of others."

"Don't you swim naked?"

"Only when no one else is around. Otherwise I wear my underlinens."

"Even here?" Sam asked with some surprise.

"Yes. Well, I rarely ever swim with anyone around, so it's not an issue. Bilbo was never fond of swimming."

"And if someone comes to find you while you're swimming, what would you do?" Sam rested his chin on Frodo's shoulder, curious about the answer.

"Stay in the water until they leave," Frodo said promptly. "If they don't leave, I'd ask them to turn around and close their eyes at least until I can get my trousers on."

"But why? Are you embarrassed about how you look?"

"Not really, no. I'm just . . . not comfortable displaying myself for anyone else to see," Frodo said, uncomfortable with this topic of conversation and grateful that he didn't have to look at Sam while admitting this, even though it meant Sam was behind him, holding him, his warmth and presence sending shivers down Frodo's spine. His heart was racing and he was finding it difficult to breathe properly.

"Have you always been so reluctant about others seeing you?" Sam asked gently.

"Yes, I think so," Frodo replied thoughtfully. "At least, I don't remember feeling any differently about it."

"Good," Sam said softly. "I was afraid . . ." he didn't continue, but hugged Frodo's waist instead.

"Afraid?" Frodo was intrigued.

"That it might have to do with our journey. The Tower. I found you naked, remember? You never told me all of what they did to you, I don't think."

"Yes, I remember," Frodo said with some reluctance. "I haven't thought about that in a long time. I don't think I could recall the details anymore -it's like a bad nightmare, only half remembered."

"And I don't mean to make you try to remember, nohow," Sam asserted. "It's better left forgotten."

"Yes, I would rather leave it be and never think about it again," Frodo agreed, then said lightly, "Now that we've talked about one of my insecurities, it's your turn to admit something embarrassing that I don't know about you."

"You have other insecurities?" Sam said with obvious interest.

Frodo pulled away and looked at him askance. "Maybe," he said evasively. "But it's your turn, remember?"

"Yes . . ." Sam said slowly. "But I don't know what to say. I can't just think of something like that on a moment's notice."

Frodo regarded him seriously, then nodded. "I understand. I'll give you a pass for now, but you can be sure I'll pull something from you eventually," he said mischievously.

"And I'll welcome that," Sam said with a grin, then changed the subject. "Is it time for lunch yet? I'm starving."

Frodo laughed. "Yes, it's about time for lunch. And listen to you, you sound like Pippin! Does Pippin still have that tremendous appetite?"

"Of course he does. And I think he passed it on to that son of his. You should hear the pair of them at mealtimes! It's a good thing they have cooks, or poor Diamond would never get out of the kitchen."

Despite the uncomfortable topics broached during the morning, Frodo -and Sam also- was able to converse easily over lunch, with Frodo asking more questions about his cousins and their families. Sam answered as best as he could, but he was fairly sure he was missing things, since it's difficult to recall sixty-odd years without some prompting. At least the veil's magic had improved his memory along with his body, or he'd still be the absent-minded old gaffer his family had been tolerating for some time.

That afternoon, Frodo began showing Sam around the city Avallone, the port of arrival for all elves coming from Middle-Earth. Some of them settled there, but many went further into the island or continued onward to Valinor itself. Being mortal, the hobbits were not permitted in Valinor, and while Frodo was curious about it, he considered Tol Eressea a more than adequate place to spend the rest of his days.

The next several days involved gradually acclimating Sam to life on the island, helping him learn the city's layout, and lots and lots of talking, between just the two of them, with Bilbo, with Gandalf, and another brief interaction with Elrond and Celebrian over tea. Whenever he and Sam were with other people, Frodo tended to stay out of the conversation, content to listen and watch Sam as he answered questions about what had passed in Middle-Earth since Frodo's ship had sailed.

When they were alone, Frodo found that Sam would let him do the talking all the time if Frodo let him. So he made sure to ask Sam questions sometimes to evenly distribute the burden of the conversation, though Sam would occasionally answer with extremely short responses and not elaborate at all. Frodo glared and scowled at him several times before Sam defended himself. "You don't say much around anyone else!" he argued.

"I don't have anything to tell them that they don't already know," Frodo pointed out. "Once you've caught us up on the past sixty years, you won't have to do all the talking."

Sam saw the logic, but countered, "And I'd like to know what has happened here in those same sixty years, and no one can tell me if I'm always talking! So I ask you."

"Your questions rarely ask about what has happened," Frodo objected. "But if you want to know, nothing happens. Life here is pretty much the same from month to month, year to year. There will be feasts and celebrations when a ship arrives or we have visitors from Valinor, but otherwise it's as uneventful as day-to-day life in the Shire can be."

"I've noticed. What I want to know is what you and Bilbo do with yourselves so you don't perish from boredom."

"Fish, swim, read, write, mingle with the elves on occasion, talk, eat, sleep, take long walks, muck around in the garden," Frodo listed quickly and dismissively.

"You have a garden?" Sam asked with interest. "It's not here, is it? I would've noticed."

"No, it's at the other hole. It's nothing much, really. Likely well nigh overrun with weeds by now, but it's a hobby so it doesn't matter if the vegetables don't produce much."

"I would be happy to help you with your garden," Sam said earnestly.

Frodo smiled. "Good. I hoped you would. You are far better at gardening than me, after all."

"I was, but I can't guarantee how well I'll do now. It's been many years since Frodo-lad let me try to do anything in the garden. He feared I'd fall and hurt myself or be unable to get up again."

Frodo looked at him steadily a moment, then turned away. "I forget, sometimes, that you were so old when you sailed. It's hard to think of you as being unable to do anything," he said meditatively.

"I was rather old," Sam confirmed with amusement. "Old and decrepit, not so good with getting up and down, and more than a little deaf, most like, if I resembled my Gaffer as much as I was told. Going through that veil was . . . well, it was almost like going back in time."

"Bilbo would say the same thing," Frodo said. "It was amazing to see him suddenly looking younger again." He grinned. "But I have to say I'm grateful I didn't have to endure old age before coming here. The way Bilbo tells it, it's a wonder anyone can live with all the aches and pains and inconveniences."

"You had your share of pain before coming here, but yes, old age isn't for cowards," Sam said, chuckling.

"That's almost how Bilbo says it. I'll have to take both of you at your word," Frodo said with a laugh. "Speaking of old, there's an ancient house on the other side of the city that has a number of curious artifacts, much like the Mathom House, if you'd like to see it . . ."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This part rated PG. Chapter summary: Frodo goes for a swim, and the hobbits have dinner with some of the Elves.

* * *

One afternoon about a week after Sam arrived, Frodo decided it was too warm not to go swimming. Bilbo and Sam both preferred to stay inside in the relatively cool depths of the hole, so Frodo went off on his own to the small inlet he typically used on such occasions. A rocky cliff rose along one side and trees sheltered two more, keeping the water cooler than would be expected for its depth. There was a small stretch of sand right at the edge where he would leave his clothes, then run into the water until the water resistance was too great and he dove forward to swim.

He settled into his routine of swimming back and forth from shore to the mouth of the inlet several times, then floating a while in the middle of the inlet (but not too close to the mouth -he'd nearly been carried away by the current once and didn't wish to repeat the experience). He loved the peaceful stillness of lying in the water, hearing only the slosh of the water against his ears, feeling the gentle water ripples against his skin. Today after floating for quite some time, he waded back to shore and sat on the margin of sand where small waves lapped, hugging his knees to his chest and staring out to sea. The sun was warm on his face; he closed his eyes and thought lazily that he would need to move in a bit so his skin didn't burn. He hadn't yet had a sun-burn here, but he wasn't anxious to get one . . . though he wondered if it were possible to do such injury to one's skin here in this land of healing. He'd have to ask Elrond sometime.

His mind skittered over many things before settling on Sam. Dear Sam. Only here a week, and already Frodo couldn't imagine how he'd been happy with just Bilbo around for so long. He smiled fondly and rested his cheek on his knee as his thoughts dwelled on Sam.

After a while, the sand began working its way into uncomfortable places, so Frodo stood and waded back into the water to rinse off. He contemplated swimming some more, but his hair had nearly dried and he didn't feel like having it drip all over his shirt, so he just submerged to nipple level and stood there, relishing the last touches of the water on his skin before he would go get dressed. Frodo saw motion out of the corner of his eye and looked up to find Sam standing on the shore and waving. Frodo moved a little closer to the shore to better hear him. "Elrond invited us to dinner. Lady Galadriel will be there. Bilbo thought you'd want time to take a bath, so he sent me to fetch you. Good thing you showed me this place the other day," Sam said, raising his voice a little so his voice would carry.

"Yes, a bath would be good," Frodo said, scratching at his head and beginning to wade toward Sam.

"Did you want me to turn around?" Sam asked, remembering their earlier conversation.

Frodo hesitated in his answer even as he continued emerging from the water. "N-no, but if you'd fetch my towel, I'd appreciate it."

Sam stepped to the side to reach for the towel, his eyes on Frodo's. He dearly wished to drink in the sight of Frodo's naked body, but he recognized that Frodo needed his encouragement rather than his ogling. The ogling would come later. Or so he hoped. Frodo came to a stop in front of him, their eyes still locked, and Sam settled the towel around Frodo's shoulders.

"Thank you," Frodo said, smiling slightly, and pressed a kiss to Sam's cheek, blushing all the while. He turned away, wrapped the towel around his waist, and started pulling on his clothes. When he was dressed, he faced Sam again. "All right, let's go."

They walked silently side by side along the path back to Avallone and the hole. After a few moments, Frodo shyly reached out and held Sam's hand. Sam smiled, entwining their fingers and moving close enough to Frodo that their shoulders occasionally touched. "Thank you for not looking at me," Frodo said quietly.

Sam squeezed his hand. "I knew that was hard for you. I didn't want to make it even harder."

"I knew I could trust you," Frodo confided, then said mischievously, "I'll bet you wanted to look."

"Badly," Sam confessed. "But I didn't want to do anything wrong or it would be a long time before you'd be willing to try again."

"That's true," Frodo admitted. They fell silent again until they were just around a bend from the smial door; then Frodo stopped, tugged Sam closer, and kissed him lingeringly. Sam responded in kind, but allowed Frodo to take the lead to avoid pushing him more quickly than he was willing. His respect for Frodo's boundaries earlier appeared to be paying off, for Frodo was more relaxed this time and caressed Sam's lips with his own, even using his tongue on occasion.

They were interrupted when the door opened and Bilbo called, "Frodo, Sam? You lads back yet?"

Frodo pulled back hastily, his face flushed and his heart pounding, grateful there was a profusion of bushes between them and Bilbo. Bilbo would find out about their budding relationship eventually, of course, but now was not the best time. "We'll be there in a minute, Bilbo," he called back. Sam nodded at him, squeezed his hand, then released it. Frodo led the way, reassuring Bilbo they would have plenty of time to prepare for dinner.

It was good to see Galadriel again, but she looked between Frodo and Sam in such a knowing way that Sam wondered if she could still read minds. Frodo was amused that most of the conversation was carried by Celebrian, Galadriel, and Bilbo when Sam wasn't being asked questions about the journey and his family. He, Elrond, and Celeborn were relatively quiet, just as he'd expect from hobbit menfolk in mixed company. Which was fine, as it provided ample opportunity to eat.

At some point after the soup but before the fish, Frodo felt something brush against his left leg. Sam was sitting on his left, but he seemed confused when Frodo looked at him questioningly. Frodo shrugged and turned his attention to the plate that was being placed in front of him. He was pleased to see shrimps in addition to a small fish filet; he had become quite fond of shrimp, but he hadn't had much success in his own shrimping efforts, as he couldn't seem to throw the net quite right. He was enjoying the first shrimp when he felt the touch on his shin again and quickly looked over at Sam, who blushed and removed his foot when Frodo caught his eye. Frodo turned back to his plate, suppressing a smirk. So that's how it was going to be!

Before Frodo could decide what he was going to do in return, he noticed Sam had picked up a shrimp and was about to eat it tail first. He leaned over and whispered, "You don't eat the tail. Try it like this." He picked up a shrimp by the tail, dunked it in the sauce, and bit down lightly, pulling just enough that the meat inside the tail came out.

Sam watched him closely, though Frodo suspected he wasn't truly that fascinated by the proper way to eat a shrimp. Frodo put the empty tail on his plate and turned to Sam. "Let me see you try."

Sam obediently picked up a shrimp, dunked it, and bit it, trying to imitate Frodo's actions, but couldn't manage to get the meat out of the tail. "That's all right, it takes practice, and some just don't come out well, and you can always squeeze the tail afterward to get the meat out," Frodo assured him, surreptitiously scooting a little closer to Sam on the bench they were sitting on. When they both had turned back to their own plates, Frodo rubbed Sam's anklebone with his foot. Sam nearly choked on a shrimp -he'd managed to get the meat out of the tail that time- and Frodo had to restrain himself from giggling.

The rest of dinner proceeded in much that fashion, with Frodo or Sam periodically touching the other's leg, preferably when it wasn't expected. Every so often Frodo could tell that Gandalf, sitting on the other side of him, was looking over at them. One of the times he caught Gandalf glancing over, and he blushed furiously when Gandalf winked at him. Frodo devoted all of his attention to his dinner after that. Well, for about five minutes, anyway. It was too entertaining not to tease Sam in that manner.

Frodo seriously considered reaching over and stroking Sam's thigh with his left hand -he didn't need it to eat, so no one would notice- but he didn't want to give Sam the wrong idea. It's not that he wasn't interested in pursuing that path -it was very hard not to be interested with Sam being so encouraging- he just wasn't ready to go that direction just yet. So he continued teasing with his foot and tried to pay attention to the dinner conversation, though he later found he couldn't remember what was talked about, nor even what he ate other than those shrimps.

After dinner the group began to disperse; Gandalf bade them a good night and departed, while Galadriel and Celeborn retired to their room in Elrond's house, and Celebrian went with them to speak to her parents in private. Frodo took the opportunity to plead exhaustion from his earlier swim, and Sam accompanied him, also pleading tiredness. Bilbo, of course, desired to stay and speak with Elrond, so Frodo and Sam meandered back to the hole alone.

"You're a terrible tease, Frodo Baggins," Sam said as Frodo preceded him through the door separating Elrond's house from their smial.

"Oh?" Frodo asked innocently, batting his eyelashes at Sam. "How, pray tell, am I a worse tease than you, Samwise Gamgee?"

"You just are," Sam said airily.

Frodo laughed. "You were the one that started it!"

"But you continued it," Sam retorted, grabbing Frodo from behind and pinning his arms to his sides by hugging him at the elbows. Frodo yelped in surprise, but stopped resisting when Sam began kissing his neck.

"Yes, I continued it, because it was fun to see you squirming," Frodo said, trying not to let Sam distract him from the point he was trying to make. "You continued it, too, so I don't see how I'm such a tease when you started that and now you're standing here and . . . and trying to . . . distract me, or ravish my neck . . . or something," he finished lamely.

"Did you want me to stop?" Sam breathed into his ear.

"Did I say that?" Frodo asked, resting his head back on Sam's shoulder. "Just admit you're a tease, too, and I'll stop talking."

"There's another way to stop you from talking," Sam mused, then kissed the corner of Frodo's mouth.

"Mmm, yes, there is that," Frodo said sleepily, but yawned before he could follow up on that thought.

"Perhaps we ought to continue this tomorrow," Sam said, tightening his arms around Frodo and pressing a kiss to his jawline. "It wouldn't do to have you fall asleep on your feet in the hall."

"Yes, Bilbo would wonder about that," Frodo agreed. He turned in Sam's arms to give him a peck on the cheek. "Good night, Sam."

"Good night, Frodo," Sam replied, letting go of his former master and watching Frodo disappear into his bedroom and close the door. Sam went to his own room nearly floating on air. He was greatly encouraged by Frodo's behavior; it seemed that Frodo's 'taking it slow' might not actually take that long. Not that his only goal was to bed Frodo -far from it!- but his body came ever closer to betraying him every time Frodo touched him, kissed him, or even just smiled at him. And watching him eat that shrimp at dinner . . . ! If they had been alone, he probably would have dragged Frodo under the table, kissed him fervently, and let things proceed from there. Sam almost groaned aloud at the thought, so he closed his door firmly and sank onto his bed with a sigh. He would need to do something about the physical reaction to this train of thought before he would be able to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This part rated R (M). Chapter summary: Frodo makes a pie, then Frodo and Sam go out for a picnic and enjoy more than just the scenery.

* * *

Frodo rose late and found Sam already in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea at the table beneath the window and absent-mindedly paging through a book. "What are you reading?" Frodo asked as he poured himself some tea from the pot keeping warm on the stove.

"I have no idea," Sam admitted. "The words are in Elvish, so I'm just looking at the pictures. Something about grand battles and the like, I reckon."

Frodo peered over his shoulder. "Yes, it's an illustrated history. I can't tell which period; there are quite a few similar volumes that Bilbo has acquired. He's made friends with the painter that does most of the illustrations in books like these."

"They're fine work, and no mistake." Sam looked up from the colorful battle scene he had been studying and watched as Frodo sat at the table. "You look tired."

Frodo shrugged. "I had several dreams that woke me during the night."

"Bad dreams or good ones?"

"Good ones." Frodo's cheeks and ears pinked slightly. "Mostly about you."

"Only mostly?" Sam asked teasingly, and grinned when Frodo blushed clear to his hairline.

Frodo thought about responding, telling Sam that the rest was devoted to his own reactions to what dream-Sam was doing, was saying, but didn't think he would be able to say it aloud. Then Bilbo came in and his presence made any additional conversation on that topic impossible.

Bilbo asked about their plans for the day as the three of them cobbled together breakfast, declaring that he intended to write and would appreciate it if there were no distractions. Sam suggested they go somewhere and have a picnic lunch; after a moment's thought, Frodo agreed, thinking of a scenic spot that he hadn't yet taken him.

"So when will you be taking Samwise to see your smial?" Bilbo inquired as they began eating.

Sam looked to Frodo, who shrugged. "I hadn't thought about it much yet. I figured I'd give him some time to get used to this place. But if Sam would like to go soon . . ." he trailed off.

"Sam, what do you think?" Bilbo persisted.

"I wouldn't mind seeing it, but it don't matter when," Sam said, glancing at Frodo, who seemed puzzled and hopeful.

"Excellent! Why don't you leave tomorrow, then?"

Frodo's puzzlement gave way to amusement. "Bilbo, if you want us to leave for a while, you could just say so," he chided. Sam looked confused, so Frodo shook his head slightly and tried to convey wordlessly that he'd explain later.

"I don't want you thinking I'm kicking you out; I'd never do such a thing," Bilbo fretted.

"And you know I don't mind leaving you in peace when you want it," Frodo assured him. "We'll leave tomorrow, then. How long is enough? A week?"

"I expect you to be gone at least two," Bilbo said, looking at each of them in turn and smiling slightly.

"All right, at least a fortnight," Frodo agreed, standing and taking his plate and cup to the sink. "If you won't mind the noise, I'd like to make a pie this morning before we go a-wandering."

"I would endure most anything for one of your pies," Bilbo said eagerly, also rising from the table. "I'll be off, now. Have a good picnic!"

Frodo added some wood to the stove, then started washing the dishes. When Bilbo had been gone for several minutes, he explained to Sam, "Every so often Bilbo needs to be left to himself, so I make myself scarce. It's part of the reason I live separately most of the time -there's no need for him to chase me off if I'm not around in the first place. He doesn't always tell me what he gets up to while I'm gone. I'll admit sometimes I wonder if he has a romantic life I don't know about, but I decided I didn't really want to know," he finished with a wink.

"I see," Sam said, thought he didn't, not entirely. He found a towel and dried the dishes Frodo had washed, then put them away as Frodo got out what he needed to make the pie.

"It's just Bilbo being Bilbo, really. I don't always understand myself, but he seems happy, so I don't force the issue," Frodo said, disappearing into the pantry for a moment. As he began mixing the dough for the pie crust, he asked, "Do you want to walk there, or take the cart?"

"What do you usually do?"

"I typically walk unless I need to take back more food and supplies than I can carry -that's why I have the cart."

"How much will you need to take this time?"

Frodo paused in rolling out the dough. "We should probably take most of the basics," he concluded after some thought. "I guess we'll have to take the cart and stop by the market on the way out to pick up some things. Bilbo doesn't keep that much on hand since he often eats meals elsewhere." He resumed rolling out the dough, realizing as he did so that he had more crust dough than he needed. He gathered it up into a ball again, split it in half, and started rolling it out again. "Would you find another pie plate for me? I have enough for two pies here -I guess we'll have shepherd's pie or something like that for dinner."

Sam found another of the round dishes and slid it onto the table next to the other one. Frodo patted the dough circle into the first pie plate, then rolled out the second one, leaving enough dough aside for the top of the pie. "Did you need me to do anything?" Sam asked as he watched.

"Start cutting up the strawberries and rhubarb, I suppose," Frodo said, setting the second crust into its plate, then poked each one with a fork in a few places to make sure the dough wouldn't rise during baking. He took the crusts to the stove, opened the oven door with his toes, and slid the plates in. While those cooked, he rolled out the dough for the top, cut it into strips, and set them aside.

Frodo watched Sam for a moment, seeing that he was hulling the strawberries, and started chopping the rhubarb, keeping an eye on the number of strawberries piling up next to Sam. "That should be enough," he said after a few moments, and continued chopping, throwing the rhubarb leaves into the waste pail. Sam sliced the strawberries and dumped the pieces into a bowl, to which Frodo added the rhubarb and a good amount of sugar.

When the fruit was sliced, Frodo checked on the crusts: almost ready. He had to hunt for the mitts he used to pull things out of the oven, and by the time he found them (hidden in a bowl in the pantry, for some odd reason), the crusts were done. Sam closed the oven door for him as he set the crusts on the counter to cool for a few minutes. Frodo checked on the fruit mixture and added some flour, stirring it until he was satisfied with the consistency. He took the fruit bowl to the crusts and poured the filling in. He brought the strips over next and deftly weaved them over and under one another over the top of the strawberries and rhubarb.

Sam watched the whole process with fascination, thinking that Frodo's considerable cooking skills had only improved with his time here. The pie went into the oven, and Frodo set to cleaning up. Sam put away the flour and sugar and such that Frodo had used while Frodo again dipped his hands into the warm, soapy water; Sam wondered if his hands would be rough and chapped later.

Once the cleanup was finished, Frodo looked at Sam expectantly. "What will we want for lunch?" he asked, already pulling out a large basket from a corner cabinet.

"You don't like to be idle, do you," Sam asked, only half expecting Frodo to answer.

"Not when I have things that need doing," Frodo replied, disappearing into the pantry. Sam followed. "Once my chores and such are finished, I enjoy idleness as much as any hobbit. And you didn't answer my question."

"I know," Sam said, grinning. They picked out a number of cheeses and meats and fruits and bread, with plenty of jam and butter, until the basket was full and heavy. Sam set it on the table while Frodo checked on the pie and covered the other crust with a towel to keep the insects off. They chatted quietly about nothing in particular to pass the time while the pie finished cooking, the delicious smell permeating the kitchen. When the pie was safely out of the oven and cooling on the counter, its crust an attractive golden brown and the filling bubbling gently, Frodo and Sam departed for their walk and picnic, lest the temptation of the pie prove too strong.

Frodo led Sam through the city, heading south toward the shore that they had not yet visited. Sam insisted on carrying the basket, so Frodo carried a few water skins and threw the blanket over his shoulder. Once they were away from the city and prying eyes, Frodo boldly took Sam's hand, interlacing their fingers. Sam smiled at him and gently squeezed his hand, and they continued onward.

It was a lengthy walk, going along the shoreline for a while before following a slight track up rocky hillside and through long, waving grasses. At last they emerged from a stand of trees onto a small hill a short distance from the edge of a cliff, which looked out over the Sea to the east and Avallone to the north. Many small boats darted in and out of the harbor, gulls cried out overhead, and the roar of waves against rock echoed up from the cliff base. The view was breathtaking, and Sam stood in mute appreciation for several minutes. By the time he thought to put down his burden, Frodo had spread the blanket and was casually stretched out on it, leaning back on his elbows. "Like the view?" Frodo asked lightly.

Sam looked at Frodo, then at the scenery, then back at Frodo. "Oh, yes. Both of them," he replied with a wink, and settled down on the blanket next to Frodo.

Frodo sat up and started unloading the basket eagerly. "I'm starving," he said fervently, biting into an apple with a blissful sigh. Sam was also quite famished, and silence reigned as they saw to satisfying their stomachs. Their hunger abated, they sat back and enjoyed the sunshine of the clear, warm day. Frodo leisurely peeled an orange, flinging the rind into the brush, then offered a segment to Sam.

Sam considered for a moment, then, with a gleam in his eye, he took the fruit from Frodo's fingers with his teeth. Frodo ate a piece himself, his eyes on Sam all the while. He held out another piece, holding it a little closer to himself this time. Sam sat up straighter, leaned forward, and again used his teeth to accept the orange, this time letting his lips skim Frodo's fingertips ever so slightly. Frodo ate his next piece hurriedly and almost bit his cheek.

The next piece proffered to Sam was accepted with a touch of tongue, and Frodo, his heart pounding, decided to respond in kind, and made a show of slurping the juice from his fingers. Sam's tongue lingered a little longer on Frodo's fingers the next time; Frodo took his index finger into his mouth with his piece.

Then there was one piece left. Frodo eyed it, then Sam, contemplating what action on his part would be most likely to lead to the desired result. He took one end of the segment in his mouth, crawled a little closer to where Sam sat cross-legged on the blanket, and stopped, still on all fours, in front of him. Sam caught on to his intention immediately and leaned forward to take his half of the piece.

They remained a breath apart as each one cursorily chewed and swallowed the half-piece; Frodo closed the gap and hungrily pressed his lips to Sam's. Sam's mouth was warm and welcoming, tasting of orange as Frodo was sure his did. Frodo inched forward so he could free his hands to feel the body straining toward his. Sam, likewise, caressed all the parts of Frodo's body he could reach, from the head of glorious curls to the rump he'd been watching so appreciatively over the last few days.

The kisses were long and thorough, but this time Frodo found it was not enough. He broke away, panting, and leaned his forehead against Sam's. "May I . . . touch you?" he asked, letting his fingers lightly graze the fullness in Sam's trousers so his meaning would be clear.

"Please," Sam gasped. He made an incoherent noise when Frodo pressed his palm to the hardness through the fabric.

Urged on by the sound, Frodo fumbled at the trouser buttons, impatiently pushing up the edge of Sam's tunic, and managed to let Sam's length come free. He lightly stroked it once, twice, then delved underneath to finger his sac before returning and tightening his grip on Sam. Sam's hands fluttered against Frodo's sides in helpless pleasure until the needy growls in Sam's throat and the desire to experience it as well prompted Frodo to beg, "Sam, touch me!"

Sam was only too happy to oblige, his hands immediately flying to Frodo's trousers. He caressed Frodo once through the protecting cloth, then took him in hand as he'd desired to do for so long. Frodo whimpered, his hand stilling on Sam as sensations he had not felt in far too long began sweeping through him. It did not take long for Sam's touch to bring Frodo over the edge, and watching Frodo flush and wail in climax brought him crashing to completion as well.

Frodo slumped onto the blanket next to Sam and Sam laid back next to him. They peacefully coexisted in silence for a few moments as each one recovered his senses. Frodo turned to Sam and kissed the corner of his mouth. "I love you, Samwise Gamgee."

"And I love you, Frodo Baggins," Sam replied, kissing him properly. This time, though the kissing lasted a while, it did not proceed any further than kisses, for both hobbits were quite content to lie on the blanket in each other's arms and demonstrate the feelings behind the words spoken.

It was well past teatime when the few remainders of the food were packed back up and clothing was rearranged for the walk back to Bilbo's home.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This part rated PG. Chapter summary: Frodo and Sam go to Frodo's smial and discuss gardening.

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Bilbo grumbled when they woke him to say farewell after first breakfast (and went straight back to bed after), but Frodo and Sam were happy to get an early start on their day. They were finished acquiring provisions and had the cart loaded by second breakfast, and purchased some sticky buns and fruit to eat along the way.

Frodo drove the rumbling cart out the west side of town, and once they passed what Frodo identified as the last house on the edge of the city, he directed Sam to keep a sharp eye out for a dirt track branching off to the right. Sam nodded and held out a sticky bun for Frodo to bite into; Frodo protested, saying he could start driving with one hand one they had turned off and eat then, but Sam didn't move the bun, so Frodo laughed and took a bite. He kissed Sam's cheek, making sure to leave a sticky spot. Sam only grinned, then gestured suddenly, unable to speak around his own mouthful.

"Yes, that's it," Frodo said after swallowing hurriedly, and steered the placid pony onto the dirt track.

As cart bumped and jolted along the track through wide meadows of waving grass, Sam asked in disbelief, "You can drive one-handed on this?"

"Certainly. The pony knows where to go," Frodo said, moving both reins into his right hand just in time for a particularly strong lurch to send him sliding against Sam. He took the opportunity to snatch his sticky bun from Sam's hand and grinned at him. "Being bumpy is something altogether different."

"I can see why you usually walk," Sam said as the cart hit yet another bump. "Haven't you thought about filling in some of these holes?"

"No. Most of the path is better. On the other side of the trees, the shoreline comes in closer, and the soil is much softer -it's at least partly sand. The ride is much smoother there."

Sam grumbled something about believing it when he saw it, but Frodo chose to ignore him and ate the rest of his bun. But indeed, they soon reached and passed through a small grove of some kind of evergreen tree, and the cart ceased lurching like a hobbit after too many ales. "Satisfied?" Frodo asked with a smirk.

Sam edged a little closer to Frodo and slipped his arm around Frodo's back. "Now I am," he said contentedly. "Tell me about your garden. You said your hole is fairly close to the sea and this soil here is sandy; is the soil at the hole sandy, too?"

"There's a good amount of sand, yes, and I'm afraid I didn't have much success growing anything in my yard as I found it, even with compost. So some of the Elven gardeners suggested I haul in richer soil from one of the forests nearer to the middle of the island. That has worked much better."

"Did you mix it in or keep it separate?"

"You keep it separate by laying down burlap or something thick like that, and layer it in with compost until it's deep enough for enough roots, then plant the seed and put mulch over that."

Sam was intrigued and asked many questions, which Frodo tried to answer, but sometimes he had to admit he wasn't sure and they'd have to look at the beds when they arrived. Almost before they knew it, the path wound around a hill and they abruptly arrived in the front yard of a smial dug into that hill and looking out toward the sea. The green door was round, of course, and green shutters hung over what must be windows on each side of the door. "What are the shutters for?"

"I put them up when I'm gone for a while just in case a storm comes in off the sea. They can be quite fierce. Bilbo likes to call it Manwe and Ulmo cleaning house." Frodo drove the cart off the path and onto the short, scrubby grass of his yard in front of the door. He hopped down and took the shutters down from their pegs, revealing small round windows. "Let's unload, and I'll show you where I keep the cart and pony."

Sam followed Frodo's lead and hefted a number of packages from the cart into his arms and took them into the hole. He looked around curiously. The front rooms of the hole -the sitting room and a spare bedroom on the right and the dining room and kitchen on the left- had higher ceilings than was typical, so he assumed Frodo must periodically have visitors other than Bilbo. The roof descended to normal heights past the kitchen, where he saw doors for the bedrooms, bathing room, and perhaps some storage.

Frodo put the various foodstuffs away in the pantry while Sam brought in the rest of their baggage. "Where should I put my things?" Sam asked, pausing outside the kitchen doorway.

"Just leave them in the main bedroom for now and we can sort everything out later," Frodo said, trying to sound dismissive.

Sam returned a short while later. "So you've got two hobbit-sized bedrooms here?" he asked, having noticed that difference from Bilbo's smial.

"Yes, the smaller one is Bilbo's on the rare occasions that he visits," Frodo replied. "You can use it if you like, or the larger room across the hall here, though that bed is rather big."

"As you said, we can sort everything out later," Sam commented. He was trying very hard not to feel slighted -what did it matter what size room he slept in?- but Frodo's bedchamber here was quite spacious and comfortable, the view of the garden and yard was stunning, and Sam couldn't help but wish for his own space like that.

Frodo seemed to sense something odd in his voice, for he turned and gazed at Sam steadily. "I should be honest with you. When I had this hole built, I planned the main bedroom with the idea that we would both be using it." He flushed, but didn't break eye contact. "It was . . . bold of me, but I had such hopes, and it seems they will come true." Frodo smiled tremulously, rubbed his palms on his breeches, and shrugged sheepishly. "I had intended to wait to bring you here until we were comfortable enough together to share a bed, but the best laid plans . . ."

Sam stepped closer and grasped the fidgeting hands in his own. "I understand. I don't mind in the least sleeping in the other room until we're both ready for that step." He tugged on Frodo's hands to bring him closer, and embraced him gently. "I'm that flattered that you were thinking of me like that even then."

Frodo chuckled. "I thought of you often, especially when I was starting that dratted garden. Come, let me show you the garden!" he said eagerly, tugging Sam out of the pantry and toward the back door just off the kitchen.

"What about the pony?" Sam asked practically.

Frodo stopped in his tracks. "I forgot about the pony," he admitted sheepishly. "All right, I suppose we'll get to the garden the round-about way."

They led the pony further along the path to a fenced-in meadow with a three-sided shelter in the northwest corner and set him free of the cart harness. The cart stood alongside the south fence with the harness, bridle, reins, and other accoutrements set in a small shed next to where Frodo left the cart. "There's a brook that runs just inside the fence on the west, here, so I don't have to worry about him getting enough water," Frodo pointed out as they strolled along the south fence and stopped to lean against the fence to look at the scenery.

"Where does the path go beyond this?" Sam asked, his eyes following the dusty track into the stand of trees to the north.

"On the other side of the grove there are foothills for the range of mountains that run from the center of the island to the sea. On clear days you can see the peaks from here, but it must be snowing up there today," Frodo said, shading his eyes with his hand as he looked toward the mostly obscured mountains. "The brook comes down from the mountains, and continues south until it joins the river on the other side of the city. I also have a well, so there's always plenty of water to be had."

"Snow on the mountains, eh? Isn't it a mite early for that?"

"Those mountains have snow on them most of the year. I even get snow down here on occasion. It's quite refreshing."

"Snow is refreshing," Sam muttered to himself. "Forgive me for sounding like an old gaffer, but it don't seem to me that snow can be refreshing."

Frodo laughed. "The elves agree with you -it's why the city doesn't extend any closer to these mountains. But I rather enjoy it here."

"I can tell," Sam said, smiling at Frodo's bright eyes and the healthy flush of his cheeks. "I hope I'll find it equally pleasant."

Frodo grinned at him. "If you'll turn around, you can just begin to see the edges of the garden. Come, let me show you." He waded through the long grass, the hill of his smial rising on the left, and stood on a slight rise. He gestured to a bowl-like hollow diving down below their feet and extending along the hill, spilling out with no discernable edge on the right. "This is my back yard," he said proudly.

Sam took in the well a short distance from the kitchen door, the neat rows of beds just below where they stood, a bench and a trellis, and a small privy shed far from both the well and the garden, beneath a few trees and next to the compost heap.

"We can add more garden beds, if you like. I generally think of the privy and this little hill as the edges of the yard, but since the Elves don't quibble about property lines, there's nothing to stop us from expanding it. And there's no one else around to say anything, anyway. You could also try your hand at getting flowers to grow; after I killed everything off one year, I stuck to the wild flowers I saw growing here and on the dunes. I tried to put them beneath the windows, but they're wildflowers, so they go where they please."

Frodo's monologue ended suddenly. "I'm sorry, I'm babbling. I'll stop now," he said quietly.

"No, no, keep going! I'm happy to hear you talk about what you've been doing," Sam said encouragingly.

"Well, there isn't much more to say, anyway," Frodo said sheepishly, then started down the rise into the midst of the garden beds. "The growing season here is rather vague in the mild years, so the weather is forgiving if you get things planted late. Those tomatoes, for example, I planted about a two months ago, and I expect they'll be done producing by the time the weather is cold enough to freeze anything."

"So there are frosts and such?"

"Oh, yes. I'm told even those warm-weather fruits -like oranges- have to have the weather get relatively cool in the winter in order to produce a good crop."

"Do the seasons here match our calendar? I mean, it's October now, so is this autumn weather?"

Frodo thoughtfully bent and pulled a few spindly weeds from the tomato bed. "I think, more or less, yes, the seasons match what we'd expect. Since my reckoning was incorrect, I'm not entirely sure, but I'm sure you'll get a feel for things soon enough. At any rate, it's approaching the winter season, so you wouldn't want to be doing any more planting until afterward, I should think."

"Aye, you're right there," Sam grunted, squatting and feeling the soil of the vegetable beds, then examined the soil of the ground beneath his feet. "I'll have to think a spell about improvements, but you've definitely got a good soil bed here. You've done well."

Frodo blushed at the praise. "I had a good deal of help from some of the Elven gardeners. I'll introduce you the next time they're on this side of the island."

"I'd certainly like to meet them as can make a gardener out of my Frodo-of-the-dead-houseplants," Sam teased.

Frodo stuck his tongue out at him. "Gardens are easier -the water comes out of the sky," he retorted. "Houseplants are too much bother." He circled the beds, looking for anything ripe that needed plucking and finding some peppers and string beans, which he collected in the edge of his tunic.

Sam, meanwhile, was pulling weeds and piling them neatly beside him, but he was impressed at how few and small the weeds were considering how long Frodo had been away. "How is it there aren't many weeds?" he asked.

Frodo shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure. They tell me it has something to do with laying down the mulch properly, but I wonder if the land simply knows what should and shouldn't be growing there. I'm going to take these inside and start lunch -I do believe we've missed elevenses entirely in our wanderings, and I'm getting rather hungry."

Sam nodded. "I'll be right here, mucking about in the dirt," he said cheerfully. Frodo laughed and disappeared inside the smial.

When Sam finished weeding the six beds, he took the detritus to the compost heap, then strolled back through the welcoming yard to the kitchen door. Frodo had his back to him, doing something with the peppers, and was singing something happy-sounding in Elvish. Sam wiped his feet and went to the sink to wash his hands. Frodo was startled and stopped singing when Sam abruptly appeared next to him but smiled at him. "I'm making stuffed peppers for us," he said. "It'll take a bit for them to be ready, but they'll be worth it, I promise."

"I hope so, I'm fair famished. What was that you were singing? I didn't realize the Elves had such happy tunes."

Frodo pinked slightly. "They don't, exactly. The words are mine, and Elrond helped me with the tune."

"Not just a gardener, but a minstrel too!" Sam exclaimed. "What does it say?"

Frodo flushed a darker pink and focused intently on stuffing the peppers. "It's a bit nonsensical, I'm afraid. I wrote it more for how it sounded than what it meant, but it speaks of happiness and contentment." He ventured a glance at Sam. "I am so very happy that you've come," he said softly.

Sam laid a hand gently on his back. "Aye, me too," he replied. "But you'd better get on with those peppers afore we both perish of starvation," he said with a wink.

A slow smile, and Frodo finished stuffing the peppers and slid the pan into the oven. While he cleaned up his mess, Sam made tea and pulled out some bread and preserves and cheese to tide them over until their actual luncheon. Frodo washed the beans and took them and a bowl to the table to pull the stems off. Sam sat down beside him and helped, and the small pile of beans was quickly diminished, with a heap of stems in their place. Frodo munched on a bean. "After lunch, I could show you what's on the other side of the path from here, if you like," he said.

"I'd be willing to see," Sam said, cutting a piece of bread and slathering it with strawberry preserves. "Are there any fish worth catching? I've a mind to have some fish and chips once of these days."

"Yes, there should be something edible in the bay this time of year. Remind me to grab the fishing pole before we leave and we can try to catch our dinner." Frodo sipped his tea and rose to check on the peppers, taking the bean stems to the refuse pail along the way. "About halfway done," he announced, closing the oven door with a bang.

Sam wordlessly fetched plates and silverware for the meal. Frodo came up behind him and rested his chin on Sam's shoulder, sliding his arms around Sam's waist. "Thank you for doing that," Frodo murmured in his ear, his fingers idly drawing circles on Sam's stomach. There was a rumbling growl from beneath his hands, and Frodo stifled his laughter in Sam's shoulder. "I think your stomach is trying to tell you something," he said when he could manage to keep a straight face.

"Aye, it's a right whiner, it is," Sam said cheerfully.

"Shall we try to distract it?" Frodo asked, lightly biting the edge of Sam's ear.

Sam whimpered, his hands clutching Frodo's arms. Frodo pressed kisses to as much of Sam's jaw line as he could reach; Sam made an impatient noise and pulled Frodo around in front of him. They stared at one another for a silent moment, then moved as one and began kissing with abandon. Frenzied hands caressed and held and ventured beneath cloth to tease heated skin; Frodo pulled back and demanded, "Take off your shirt so I can touch you."

"Only if you do the same," Sam replied, already starting to pull off the offending fabric. Frodo followed suit and shrugged off his tunic, standing half-naked and vulnerable before him. Sam reverently touched much-faded scars, feeling the warmth and life beneath Frodo's skin.

Frodo allowed his gaze and touch without much thought, focused as he was on Sam's broad chest and sturdy frame. He shivered as Sam pulled them together to feel the other, skin on skin. Frodo clung to Sam, his passion for the moment giving way to a simple need to be held. He sighed, then straightened in alarm. "I think the peppers are burning!"

Sam hurriedly let him go, and Frodo yanked open the oven door. He reached in, belatedly remembering he hadn't grabbed his mitts, snatched the mitts, and pulled the pan from the oven. "Oh, good, they're still edible," he said with relief as he set the pan on the counter.

"I guess we oughtn't carry on so while you're cooking," Sam said sheepishly.

"That might be wise," Frodo agreed, dishing the peppers onto their plates. As he went to sit down, he picked up his shirt from the floor and, with a few glances between it and Sam, shrugged and set it on the back of his chair. Sam grinned and dug in.

They ate quickly and left the dishes to do later, leaving the smial bare-chested and laughing to explore the rest of their domain.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This part rated R. Chapter summary: The issue of bed-sharing is resolved, and Bilbo reveals his purpose in sending them away to Frodo's smial.

* * *

Frodo lay restlessly in bed, staring sightlessly toward the window and the morning light in the garden outside. He knew he ought to get up, but he hadn't heard Sam moving about yet, so he didn't feel any hurry to disrupt his train of thought. He was pondering how to ask Sam to share his bed, for though they had been here for a week, the right moment to broach the issue never seemed to arise.

He sighed and shifted his head on the pillow, then realized he needed to use the chamber pot. He sighed again, and reached over the side to fish it out from under the bed. But he couldn't reach far enough from where he was so he had to lean forward even farther, his entire torso over the edge of the mattress, and he wondered -not for the first time, and certainly not for the last- why on earth he had the Elves make him such a high bed. Frodo had just laid hold of the pot when a knock at his door startled him and he lost his balance, hitting the floor with a surprised yelp.

"Frodo? Are you all right?" came Sam's worried voice, followed a few moments later with footsteps coming toward the far side of the bed where he lay in an undignified heap.

"Yes, I'm fine," he said, flinging the sheet that had tangled about his legs back onto the bed and tugging his nightshirt down to cover himself, though he remained seated on the floor. "If you wouldn't mind giving me a moment, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course."

The footsteps stopped and Frodo quickly did his business. He stood and sniffed the air. "Do I smell breakfast?"

"Aye, I thought I'd bring you breakfast," Sam said with a touch of uncertainty, gesturing at the tray he'd hurriedly deposited on the table betwixt the armchairs that sat in front of the fireplace.

"Sam, you are too good to me," Frodo said, touched by his thoughtfulness. "I didn't even realize you were up yet!"

Sam shrugged a little. "I wanted to surprise you."

"You certainly did," Frodo said with a smile, climbing back onto his bed. "I hope you brought enough for both of us?" At Sam's nod, he patted the bed beside him and said eagerly, "Then bring that up here and let's have breakfast."

Sam was only too happy to do so, and without any further talk they set to devouring the hearty fare: hotcakes, sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs, hash browns, and orange juice. When the plates were empty and both hobbits were stuffed even to the tiniest corners, Sam sat back against the headboard and groaned. "I'm so full, the only thing I'm good for right now is a nap."

"Mmm, yes, me too," Frodo said in agreement. "At least we're already in bed; that makes napping easier."

Startled, Sam looked at him. "You mean to let me nap here?"

"Of course. Why not? Don't you remember what I told you about this room?" Frodo slid off the bed long enough to deposit the tray on the floor, then slid under the covers next to Sam and opened his arms invitingly.

Sam nodded and inched himself under the covers to lie in Frodo's embrace. Frodo kissed his forehead and lazily rubbed his back until his breathing evened and deepened. He wasn't as tired -he hadn't even been properly out of bed yet- but he was happy to lie beside his sleeping Sam, to look his fill and learn the feeling of the full length of his body, clothed only in a thin nightshirt, so close to his own.

Frodo didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke a while later on his back with Sam pressed up against his side, Sam's head on his shoulder. The feeling was completely gone from Frodo's left arm, pinned as it was beneath Sam, but he didn't mind. He gently caressed Sam's cheek with his other hand and realized with a small chuckle that Sam was drooling on his shoulder. His fingers ran through Sam's hair, ran down his neck, fluttered over his shoulder blade, lightly grazed a nipple, and wound back up to his face, following the line of his jaw, the plane of his cheek, the arch of his eyebrow, and the slope of his nose to the parted lips. These he traced carefully, skimming the outside edges, then moving inward to caress their fullness.

He was only partially surprised when those lips suddenly took hold of his finger and the tip was flicked by tongue. "Morning, Sam," he said huskily. The tongue touched his fingertip again before his finger was released.

"Morning, Frodo," Sam replied sleepily. He moved so his head could be next to Frodo's on the pillow and Frodo pulled his arm out from under him. "I seem to have soiled your nightshirt. I'm sorry," he said when he noticed the wetness he'd left on Frodo's shoulder.

"Hush. It can be washed," Frodo said dismissively and kissed Sam's lips briefly. "Would you sleep here tonight?"

"And every night after, if you want it," Sam answered immediately and kissed him in return.

"Oh, I do," Frodo breathed, pressing himself against Sam and holding him close as he kissed him deeply and thoroughly. Sam responded in kind, and Frodo couldn't seem to decide where to put his hands first. But then he had another idea. Pulling back from Sam, he said breathlessly, "Take off your nightshirt. I want to see you. All of you." He knelt and heedlessly yanked his own nightshirt off -he wasn't wearing any linens- and watched Sam's eyes widen. Sam hurriedly knelt and did the same, and they sat for a moment, simply staring at each other.

"Lie down," Frodo instructed. Sam obeyed, and watched as Frodo knelt over him and ran his hands from shoulders to hips and back again, ignoring Sam's arousal for the moment. Frodo desperately wanted to touch and kiss and tease, but he was already painfully aroused and he didn't think Sam could hold out much longer, either. So he took Sam in hand and caressed him, squeezing him gently, then stroking him firmly until Sam stiffened and groaned with his release. When Sam was limp and panting, Frodo closed his eyes and moved his hand to himself to finish.

But Sam was having none of it. "Let me," he said, rising and pushing Frodo back.

Before Frodo could speak, Sam took his arousal in his mouth and Frodo wailed. The sensation was intense, and all too soon Frodo reached his peak. When he was able to think again, he opened his eyes to see Sam smirking at him. "I'll have to learn how to do that to you," Frodo said groggily. "Come here?"

Sam crawled up next to Frodo and pulled him into his arms. They lay quietly for a long while, until hunger drove them to rise. It was not uncommon for them to never leave the smial, and indeed hardly leave the bedroom, for a number of days. On the days they did go out, the pony became accustomed to the pair abruptly disappearing from view, only to reappear a while later looking mussed and flushed. He would only snort and swish his tail, shaking his head at hobbit antics.

* * *

It was three weeks before they went back to Bilbo's smial. Bilbo eyed them critically when they arrived, then clapped his hands and bustled off. They followed him to the kitchen, where he was pouring a small bit of wine into three glasses. Bilbo raised his. "To the both of you. May you keep one another happy for a long time to come."

Frodo and Sam exchanged a look. "How did you . . ." Frodo asked uncertainly.

"Just by looking at you, lad. You're both beaming fit to burst. So? Will you drink or not?"

Frodo smiled and they picked up their glasses, draining them in a gulp. "So you're happy about us?" Frodo asked after several moments of awkward silence.

"Of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know . . ." Frodo said helplessly.

Bilbo patted his shoulder. "In fact, getting the two of you together was why I sent you away! I could tell you were working up the nerve and I didn't want to interrupt anything important."

Frodo gaped at him, and Sam had to admit he was rather astonished by that revelation as well. "Really, Bilbo, you are too much! I'll have you know we were getting there on our own without your interference," Frodo insisted.

"So I only helped it along a little. You're together now, I'm glad, and that's that. Now, I expect you will spend most of your time at your smial, yes? Visit every once in a while, that's all I ask."

"Certainly, Mr. Bilbo," Sam replied.

"We're family now, Sam, so don't give me any more of this Mr. Bilbo nonsense. Call me Uncle Bilbo if just 'Bilbo' doesn't feel right."

Sam nodded. "All right . . . Bilbo."

Bilbo thumped him on the back enthusiastically. "Yes, that's it lad. Are you two going to stick around long enough for me to say I told you so to Elrond when he gets back next week?"

"We were only planning to stay a few days, Bilbo," Frodo said apologetically.

"That's fine. Gandalf will vouch for it."

"Gandalf?"

"That dratted wizard claims he knew you two would get together only a week after Sam arrived! In any case, he and I both told Elrond you'd be openly, er, involved by the time you came back. Elrond thinks you would take longer, if you ever made it official at all. For as wise as he can be, he doesn't know hobbits!"

"But this dratted wizard does, and he thinks this pair would rather be eating than talking about their personal lives with you," Gandalf interjected from the hallway. All three hobbits jumped at his voice, none of them having heard him come in through the back door. "If you'll follow me to where I can actually stand up straight, there's lunch available."

Frodo gave Gandalf a grateful look, and they went with him to eat.


End file.
